


Impulse

by shadowsamurai



Series: Choices and Decisions [2]
Category: Midsomer Murders
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Romance, Slash, Subtext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 13:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is something about Troy that draws Barnaby to him, an impulse he just can't ignore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Acting on Impulse

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Season 11, Episode 2 'Blood Wedding'. Past romance and strong slash theme.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

 

TB-GT-TB-GT-TB-GT

It was not the first time he'd had the impulse, that blinding feeling he just *had* to obey. But Barnaby was, above all, a disciplined man, aware of his own desires and wishes but not subject to following them. But sometimes, just sometimes, his iron will broke and he found himself wanting to act on instinct.

He never did, of course. It would have been completely against his character, but that didn't stop the thought from crossing his mind on occasion. Of course, that was until Troy had shown up at Cully's wedding, taking everyone by surprise, but nobody more so than Barnaby. He had *known*, the instant he saw the younger man, that it would be nothing short of a miracle if they managed to get through the day without any…incidents. In some small way, Barnaby had hoped Troy had forgotten about their encounter, but no such luck, and it was clear that his former Sergeant had no intention of disregarding it.

Barnaby sighed. Although he knew what had happened was real, he thought the strong feelings that accompanied it were a figment of his imagination…until he saw Troy. Barnaby had warned him off, not because he didn't *want* to kiss him, but because if they had started, he wouldn't have been able to stop. Seeing Troy had brought everything into sharp focus for Barnaby, the hopelessness of his situation: he was in love with two different people. He didn't understand how that was possible; he didn't understand how things with Troy had escalated in the first place. Barnaby had never had any kind of urges to start looking elsewhere for companionship. He had been married to Joyce for a long time, happily married, and in his mind, committing adultery was up there with theft and murder. And yet that was precisely what he had done.

It was the summer before Troy received his promotion, not long before he left Midsomer, actually, and they had been on their way back from interviewing a witness when a tyre blew on the car. While Troy was doing all the hard work, Barnaby absently noticed his young Sergeant must have been working out as he could see the muscles undulating beneath his shirt. When the DCI realised what he was thinking, he was so shocked with himself that for a moment, he couldn't speak. Then, when he did open his mouth, the idea he came out with was so absurd he thought Troy would have had the good sense to laugh in his face.

"Let's have lunch here, Troy. Joyce made me a packed lunch today."

Troy did laugh at Barnaby, but at his choice of words, not his proposition. "A picnic in the country, sir?"

"It might be a trip to the hospital, Troy, with Joyce's cooking," Barnaby replied.

And so, armed with a rather tatty blanket, two warm bottles of water, and some sandwiches that could probably fell an entire army rather than feed them, Troy and Barnaby wandered into the field next to where the car had decided to stop. They sat, tie-less and with their sleeves rolled up, both feeling more relaxed than they had for a while. Barnaby knew Troy would be leaving him soon, and he wished the young man all the luck in the world, but part of him wished he would stay in Causton and Midsomer. After they had made an attempt at eating, Barnaby lay down, fully intent on catching forty winks before they made their way back to the station. It wasn't unusual for them to be out all day, so no one would miss them for another few hours at least, and while the sun was shining, Barnaby was intent on making the most of it.

But not long after he had gotten himself comfortable, his eyes closed, the sun disappeared, and frowning, Barnaby cracked open one eye to see what the problem was.

"Troy, you're in the way."

The DS shrugged. "I know."

"I hope there's a good reason for it."

"There is." Troy bent his head, his face now so close to Barnaby's that he could smell the other man's aftershave.

"Troy, what are you doing?" Barnaby asked. He felt as though he should have been panicked, but instead he found himself curious.

"You know if I get my promotion, sir, I'll be leaving, and there's something I want to do before I go," Troy replied. "This might be my only chance."

Barnaby gulped. "And what's that?"

He had guessed the answer, of course. After all, he was a detective. But guessing and experiencing the reality of the answer were two completely different things, and nothing could have prepared Barnaby for the feel of Troy's lips against his, demanding everything the older man had to give. To his surprise, Barnaby felt himself responding. He lifted his hands and placed the flat of his palms against Troy's shoulders, fully intent on pushing the younger man off him, of shouting and storming off, but all that happened was one hand slid around the back of Troy's neck while the other started to undo the buttons of his shirt. Barnaby knew both of his hands, and his lips, were working without his permission, but he couldn't stop them, found he didn't *want* to stop them.

Troy suddenly straddled Barnaby's waist, causing the older man to gasp, and they pulled apart. No words were spoken; they weren't needed. Troy was asking a question, giving Barnaby the chance to stop and walk away, but Barnaby surprised them both by putting Troy's hands on his chest, guiding his fingers to the buttons. Things went rapidly downhill from there. Shirts were flung open and half pulled off, trousers were unbuckled and pushed down, and their hands were everywhere.

Afterwards, while Troy lay dozing, his arm flung across Barnaby's chest, the only thoughts that crossed the older man's mind were he hoped no one had seen them, and it was the first time he had done it in a field. It wasn't until they both woke up properly the he realised what had happened, but as soon as Barnaby uttered the words 'it was a mistake', he knew *that* was the mistake, judging by the look on Troy's face. He had tried a different tact, 'I'm too old for you', which had just made matters worse. They didn't speak at all for the rest of the day, and the next day they just acted like nothing had happened. But neither of them could forget, and the last night before Troy left Midsomer for good, they had slept together again, but that time, Troy managed to extract a promise from Barnaby.

'As often as I can'. That was his response when Troy asked when he could see him next. So far, in all the time he had been gone from Midsomer, he and Barnaby had been together twice, always brief encounters, taking no more than a couple of hours. Barnaby knew Troy wanted more, wanted something he couldn't give, and Troy knew Barnaby would never leave Joyce.

'As often as I can'. The words echoed in Barnaby's ears as he sat in his car, and as he recalled that summer with Troy, he was surprised to find his cheeks were wet with tears. He had managed to put it all behind him, or at least he thought he had, and then Troy showed up at Cully's wedding. And that, for Barnaby, was the beginning of the end. He realised so many things that day and his thoughts had slowly consumed him. Joyce assumed it was because Cully was finally married and didn't need her dad any more, and Jones assumed the same thing. Barnaby didn't bother to correct them. Besides, if he told them the truth, he wasn't sure they would believe him anyway.

But then something had changed. He couldn't put his finger on precisely what it was or when it had happened, but Barnaby could *feel* it, almost like a physical tug on his heart and soul. And while he had never really believed in such romantic nonsense, he was nonetheless experiencing it. And so one day, when the impulse had become too strong for him to ignore, Barnaby had packed a bag, citing to Joyce some half-baked excuse about a case, and set off to Middlesborough. He wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting when he turned up on Troy's doorstep; all Barnaby knew was that he had to see him again. So many months had passed since Cully's wedding with not a word from Troy and Barnaby couldn't stand it any longer.

Unfortunately, it seemed like *too* much time had passed. Barnaby knocked on Troy's door and waited semi-patiently, his hands clasped behind his back simply to stop himself from fidgeting. Through the glass of the front door, he could see a tall, dark haired man walking down the hall, and Barnaby steeled himself for that first look at Troy that always made his knees turn to water.

Only it wasn't Troy. And from the half-dressed state of the man before him, Barnaby reasoned he had disturbed him from a shower. He couldn't help but notice the perfect muscles and tanned chest beneath the half open shirt, or the neat line of fine hair that disappeared into the waistband of a pair of well cut jeans.

"Can I help you?" the young man asked as he towelled his hair.

"I was looking for Gavin Troy," Barnaby replied. He managed to keep his voice neutral but he wasn't sure how he did it.

"Oh. He's not in at the minute," the man said. "He's at work. Can I…give him a message or something?"

*Yes. Tell him I love him and can't live without him, and that if he doesn't get rid of you, I'll do it for him.* Barnaby smiled in his easy way. "No, thank you." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left.

And now, in some out of the way place, Barnaby wiped his cheeks as the tears dried and the memory of him and Troy and summer faded. He had held onto the almost irrational belief that Troy would wait for him, but in all reality, Barnaby knew his current situation was all his own fault. He had encouraged Troy to move on, done everything in his power to push him away, and now Barnaby realised just what he wanted, it was too late.

TBC


	2. Purely on Impulse

TB-GT-TB-GT-TB-GT

Troy was almost frantic with frustrated worry. He knew he had to be *somewhere* around here, hopefully nearby. He didn't have such a big head start on the young Inspector, but in a place like Middlesborough, half an hour could have put him anywhere. It was just Troy's luck that something like this would happen. Suddenly he slammed the brakes on, having been so caught up in his thoughts he didn't notice the people crossing the road. All glared at him and two swore at him, but he didn't pay them much attention. He was too busy trying to listen to his instincts, except they weren't answering him back which made finding the one he was looking for more difficult. Finally, Troy pulled over, tears obscuring his view. Already he thought it was hopeless. Already he thought Barnaby would be well on his way back to Causton, Midsomer, and Joyce now, and Troy would never see him again. Thumping the steering wheel, then resting his forehead against it, Troy recalled what had happened when he returned home....

*"Hey," Dean greeted him, looking impeccable as always. "How was work?"

"Lousy," Troy replied, heading for the kitchen. "Sometimes I think I'd have been better off staying as a Sergeant in Midsomer."

"Yeah, but then you wouldn't have met me," Dean said, grinning.

Troy grunted. "Are you going out or something?"

"No. Why?"

"You look smart."

"I always look smart, Gavin, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Forget I said anything."

Dean frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." Troy ran a hand through his hair and then dragged it over his face. "Just tired, that's all. Think I'll veg out on sofa tonight, see if there's any football on."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Dean replied, turning to head up the stairs. "Oh, by the way, some guy called for you earlier."

In the kitchen, Troy froze. "Guy?"

"Yeah. Oldish, I guess, in his fifties. Tall, dark hair, dressed in a suit. You know him?"

"Did he give you a name?" Troy asked, coming out of the kitchen, his heart racing.

Dean shook his head. "Didn't get chance to ask for one either. He just asked if you were in, then left in a big hurry." He looked carefully at Troy's face. "He's the one, isn't he? The one you told me about?"

"Soft spoken? Clear blue eyes?"

Dean smiled and nodded. "Yeah, that's him."

"Shit." Troy started to pace. "But if he wanted to see me, why did he leave in such a hurry?" He stopped and stared at Dean. "Did you say something to him?"

"What? Me? No! I'd just got out of the shower and hadn't even finished dressing properly…." Dean stopped. "Oh."

"What?" Troy asked, frowning.

"I think he thought I was your boyfriend."

*"What?"*

Dean held his hands up. "Hey, I didn't tell him I was. Like I said, I'd just got out the shower. But it stands to reason that's why he probably bolted like he did. I didn't get chance to tell him differently. Hell, I didn't get chance to do much except stand there like an idiot."

"Shit, shit, shit." Troy started pacing again.

"Man, what are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"Don't think, get after him! If you care about this guy as much as you say you do, then don't waste time stood here talking to me," Dean told him. "He left about half an hour ago, and if my assumption's right, he's going to need a bit of time to compose himself. He probably thought I didn't notice, but he looked like he'd been kicked in the gut when he saw me."

Troy didn't need telling twice. He grabbed his jacket and keys and raced to the door. "Thanks, mate."

"Don't mention it." Dean grinned. "Oh, and Gavin?"

"Yeah?"

"He's pretty cute, if you like older guys."

"Or if you like guys," Troy replied. "Which reminds me, how much longer are you going to be kipping in my spare room?"

Dean pulled a face. "Sarah's still pissed at me for sleeping with Tina."

"Again."

"You had to say that, didn't you?" Dean asked in a hurt tone.

"Dean, just pick one of them and get out of my house!" Troy told him, grinning.

"Yeah, okay, message received and understood. You think you'll need the privacy. Got it." Dean suddenly stared at his friend. "What? Are you still here? Move, boy! Move, move, move!" He made a shooing gesture with his hands and Troy went out the front door, but not before swearing at him first....*

But Troy hadn't found Barnaby and in his heart, he felt as though it had been his one chance to change things, and now it had gone. Suddenly he felt claustrophobic, his car felt as though it was airless, and in a frenzy, Troy clambered out of the vehicle, barely remembering to lock it before striding off. As he looked up, he realised he was in a park, and he was alone. Finding a bench, Troy sat and buried his head in his hands. He hoped the wind would take away his pain, leave him numb so he could at least function.

After a while, he became aware of someone sat next to him, but Troy paid no attention. His only thought was 'there are plenty of benches in the park, why do you have to sit on this one?' It was ungracious, he knew, but he didn't care.

"How long will we sit here before you look up?"

Troy stopped crying, stopped thinking, almost stopped breathing. That voice…. Then, gently, fingers found their way to his chin, lifting his head, and Troy complied, coming face to face with the clearest pair of blue eyes he had ever seen.

"I thought you left," Troy said, his voice thick.

"I was doing, but…."

"Dean isn't my partner," Troy blurted out. "He's a mate from work having girlfriend trouble, which is all his own fault, but that's beside the point. He's been sleeping in my spare room."

Barnaby looked surprised. "I thought…."

"I know. Or Dean did. He didn't get chance to tell you otherwise."

"I just assumed…." Barnaby sighed. "I assumed wrong, then."

"Yes, Tom, you did," Troy said firmly.

"After I saw you last, I thought you had finally found someone. I-I was trying to be happy for you, because I knew it was my own fault for waiting too long to do something about…us. But…."

"You want me all to yourself."

Barnaby smiled slightly. "Selfish, I know."

Troy looked around and seeing no one, took hold of Barnaby's hand. He didn't want to embarrass the older man, but he was also thinking of himself. Few people knew about his sexuality and Troy preferred to keep it that way.

"Not really. I knew the situation when we started this that summer. And I'm not asking to see you every weekend, though that would be great, just…once a month, once every couple of months. Even if it's only for lunch. Even if we meet halfway between here and Causton just for…for a kiss. I just…."

Barnaby had tuned out. It wasn't done on purpose, but for the first time, he saw what was shining in Troy's eyes, the love that he presumed had always been there but had only just noticed. And then, without thinking, purely on impulse, he leant forward and caught Troy's lips in a searing kiss.

"I…what…wow…Tom," Troy stuttered.

Barnaby smiled. "How long is your friend staying at your house?" he asked.

Troy grinned. "He's leaving right now." He pulled his mobile out to call Dean.

Barnaby kissed Troy's hand. "I'll see you at your house, then."

Troy could only grin in reply. "Hi Dean, it's Gavin. Listen, mate, I need the house for a while…. Yeah…. Yeah, I did…. As long as you can give me…. Great. Cheers, Dean. I'll call you when you can come back." He pocketed the phone and ran to his car. Barnaby was just climbing in his. "Race you!"

FIN


End file.
